Must Be Dreaming
by Roadkill2580
Summary: She has a loving husband, three children, and is heavily pregnant. She has everything she had ever wanted. Something is wrong.  Rabastan Lestrange/Hermione Granger. Yes, you read that right.


_**Must Be Dreaming**_

_Summary: She has a loving husband, three children, and is heavily pregnant. She has everything she had ever wanted. Something is wrong. _

_I must be dreaming, or  
>We're onto something<br>I must be dreaming, for  
>I don't fall in love lawlessly<br>I must be dreaming, or  
>Pinch me to waking<br>So undeniably yours  
>As long as I'm losing it so completely<em>

_-Must Be Dreaming, Frou Frou_

A soft golden light disrupted her sleep. Hermione furrowed her brows and turned into the warm body next to her, snuggling in close and smiling when she felt a muscular arm wrap around her. A nose nuzzled her hair before lips placed soft butterfly kisses behind her ear. Fingers trailed down her back in a loving caress.

"Good morning, wife," her husband's rough voice said. Hermione grinned and pulled him closer. "Not yet Rabastan," she murmured back. He chuckled as he moved his hand to entangle his fingers in her hair. He leaned back to gaze at her face, sleepy but glowing with motherhood. Rabastan kissed her on the forehead. He usually wasn't an affectionate man, but it was hard to contain himself around his beautiful wife.

"You say that every morning, Hermione darling. Soon, Mireille will be bouncing in here. You might as well wake up now," Rabastan gently urged. Hermione yawned and stretched to be met with the sound of her back popping, a sign that she had slept well. As the blankets fell down her body, her rounded belly was revealed. Rabastan's eyes immediately honed in on Hermione's pregnant stomach. He scooted closer and splayed his long fingered hand over the life inside Hermione. The reach showed his forearm to the morning light and the faded but glaring Dark Mark. She disregarded the symbol, instead focusing on the look of joy on Rabastan's face. With each child, every morning he had insisted on being allowed to feel her pregnant belly. Due to a life surrounded by miscarriages, he was irrationally convinced that by doing this, he was somehow sparing the life of the unborn baby. Of course, Hermione had told him several times it was because of the introduction of new blood that the children were surviving, but he stubbornly refused to listen to her. Hermione didn't mind overly much since it provided time for Rabastan to bond with the babe before it was born.

Suddenly, their bedroom door was violently pushed open, and a small whirlwind of flesh and energy tore through the room and bounced up on the bed. In the brief moment of stillness, a dark haired girl with bright blue eyes could be observed. There was another flurry of movement, and Rabastan was pushed aside as Mireille covered her unborn sister, her ear plastered to her mother to listen. Father looked bemusedly down at daughter, who grinned innocently at him before a rumble from Hermione's belly recaptured her attention. Hermione smiled at her young daughter, once again noting the three things she had inherited from her; the curls in her hair, the light smattering of freckles across the nose, and her facial structure. Everything else was all Rabastan, from the dark brown hair to the icy blue eyes, received from Rabastan's grandmother, Lady Malfoi. It was interesting to note that some Pureblood families had foreign counterparts, like the Malfoys and Malfois, the Lestranges and the L'Stranges, and such. All thoughts of the intricacies of purebloods fled her mind when Mireille turned her blinding smile on her mother. Hermione smiled gently.

"Are your brothers awake yet?" Mireille shrugged back in response. Hermione combed back her daughter's hair with no small measure of pride. She was such a precious little thing and Hermione considered herself beyond lucky to have three bright children with a fourth on the way. "How about you wake your brothers up, and then we can have breakfast, hmm?" Hermione suggested. Mireille smiled brilliantly and with an energetic "Okay!", she dashed out of the room to noisily wake her older siblings. Hermione watched her go fondly.

"She's so lovely. Little Mireille is going to have to beat the boys off of her with a stick," Hermione told her husband. The content look on Rabastan's face disappeared quickly to be replaced with a black, menacing one that briefly reminded Hermione that her husband was, and still could be, a very dangerous dark wizard.

"No one will touch her," he said resolutely. She arched a brow at him. "Rabastan, what do you plan on doing when she falls in love?" Her husband didn't reply, but his face was changing from stubborn to sly, and she knew that he was plotting some way to keep potential suitors away from his little girl. Hermione shook her head. How she put up with his scheming tendencies, she would never know. Deciding to distract him, Hermione spoke again.

"Rabastan, help me out of bed, would you? I need to dress and go make breakfast," The retired Death Eater slid from bed and stepped to the other side to aid his pregnant wife from bed, watching her face for any signs of discomfort before frowning.

"Hermione, I thought we agreed the house elves would do all of the chores from now on?" said Rabastan. It was Hermione's turn to frown. She shouldn't have mentioned anything. Rabastan hated it when she attempted to do chores and absolutely loathed it when she tried while she was pregnant.

"Not quite, Rabastan. You told me I wasn't going to do anymore chores. I never agreed to anything," Hermione replied sternly. She planted her feet hip width apart, squared her shoulders, and crossed her arms. It was a stance that Rabastan, while only having seen it a few times before, knew very well. It also preceded their few but explosive arguments that left them not talking to each other, before they had make up sex. He loved the makeup sex. But Rabastan also knew that any serious arguments would be very bad for the baby. So he made the decision to compromise.

"You know I'm just worried about your health, darling. Let's make a deal, shall we?" he proposed. Hermione continued to stare him down, but she didn't say anything, and her facial expression hadn't changed from her frown that told him nothing, so he continued. "How about you just help the elves make breakfast? You know, bring out the dishes and things?" he said. When he saw his wife's brows furrow, he knew his offer wasn't good enough, and tacked on a few extra things. "And you can make lunch all by yourself. But then you have to let the elves do dinner by themselves," he finished. Hermione's face slowly relaxed while she considered the idea. Finally she dropped her stance and Rabastan congratulated himself on avoiding another fight.

"I just don't think it's fair to enslave house elves, Rabastan. They deserve their freedom too," Hermione insisted. She turned to pull a maternity robe from her closet that Rabastan knew to be her favorite. He stepped behind her and began to deftly unbutton her night gown while she pulled her robe off the hanger and replaced it back in the closet. As soon as the gown was loose, she shrugged out of it and let it pool at her feet, and then climbed into her day robe. This too, Rabastan helped her with, straightening the skirt so that it fell properly around her ankles, before buttoning her sleeves and neckline, making sure one button was left undone at her neck, and two at her wrists. After dressing his wife, Rabastan quickly dressed himself, scooped up their night clothes, and left them in the laundry basket for the elves to pick up. Hermione smiled at Rabastan as she eyed him in his robes. She knew those were perfect for him, they showed off his broad chest so well. Hermione linked her arm with his and walked out of the bedroom and down the hall with him towards the kitchen, staring up into his aristocratic face. When he glanced down and smirked at her, Hermione felt herself blush. She pressed closer to him, nearly hugging his arm.

"I love you, Rabastan," she said. He didn't reply, but she knew from the squeeze his hand gave hers that he loved her back. Down the hall, she heard her three children laughing and talking loudly and their voices were met with disgruntled portraits of Rabastan's pureblood family. It was another normal, perfect day in the Lestrange family, and Hermione couldn't be happier.And yet, she couldn't help a sinking feeling of dread in her stomach. She had a loving husband, three children, and was heavily pregnant. She had everything she had ever wanted. Something was wrong.

OooooO

Today was one of Hermione's many days off. As a part of one of the many compromises between Rabastan and herself, while she was pregnant, she would only work part time. Thus, the Lestrange family was going out to buy school supplies for the two eldest children, Aurélien and Judicaël. Accompanying them was the next generation of the Malfoy family, shopping for their only child, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy. The two families were meeting at Gringotts, and when Hermione saw Draco Malfoy, she readily offered a polite smile. However, upon seeing Astoria, her smile became forced. In the first few meetings between the newest Lady Malfoy and Lady Lestrange, it had appeared they would get along swimmingly. But upon finding out about the gender of the third Lestrange child, Astoria had made several attempts to create a marriage contract between the families, trying to attain the newfound fertility the couple had, not realizing that it was the new blood that granted the Lestrange name so many children. The push for Mireille's future to be tied with Scorpius's irritated Hermione to no end, and relations had soured after Hermione told Astoria it would be Mireille's choice who she married. It was such a shame, Hermione thought. While they would never be good friends, Hermione and Draco greatly respected the each other, and sometimes worked together in curse applications in the company that Hermione worked for, and Draco's father owned.

As the Malfoys came closer, Mireille stepped ever nearer to her mother, and both of Hermione's sons stiffened into practiced stances that were used amongst purebloods. Rabastan slid his arm around Hermione's thick waist and pulled her to him. A light pinch from his fingers prompted her to gasp and try to subtly tickle his side without alerting the approaching family. The smug smirk on his handsome face told her that she was failing.

"Uncle Rabastan, Hermione, it is good to see you again," Draco said solemnly. Hermione nodded in acknowledgement and proceeded to give a cold stare at Astoria as she considered Mireille, her pretty blue eyes looking between young Scorpius and her daughter.

"How is Lucius doing these days?" Rabastan inquired. As Draco answered, the air around the two women continued to drop into frigid temperatures. Steadily, Hermione's temper grew, and with it, her magic, urging her hair to fluff around her head, becoming bushier than normal. She was so concentrated in her silent argument with Astoria, whose rising magic had lent a shining quality to her hair, that she was quite surprised when the baby kicked. A soft "Oh!" alerted her husband, who immediately began to inspect his wife.

"Is everything well?" a concerned Draco asked. Hermione waved away Rabastan as she rubbed her belly, trying to settle the restless babe. The four children were intensely focused on Hermione, Scorpius with such a potent mixture of emotion in his eyes that Hermione's heart hurt. She knew that Astoria had problems becoming pregnant, and her last had ended in a miscarriage. Understandably, Scorpius was jealous of the Lestranges, but also worried that Hermione was hurt.

"Everything is fine, Draco. Seraphine is just telling me that she'll be ready to come soon," Hermione assured him, "Scorpius, would you like to feel?" The boy's eyes widened, looking utterly stunned for a moment, before nodding slowly. Hermione smiled and waved him closer. "Just put your hands here, and wait for a few moments." The witch would never forget the look on the youngest Malfoy's face as it went from impassive to surprise, to delight, when Seraphine kicked multiple times in a row in her belly.

"Another girl. How charming. Your family truly is blessed, Hermione," commented Astoria, "She is, of course, magic. With a strong bloodline like the Lestranges, it would be hard not to be. Do you plan on having more?" Just with a few sentences, Hermione's lightening mood instantly plummeted.

"With four children, it's hard to say. Two boys and two girls is plenty for me. Rabastan and I will discuss it later, but whatever happens, happens," Hermione replied coolly. "Hermione has her job to think about," Rabastan added, and Hermione felt good, knowing he remembered that one of her primary reasons for not wanting more children was to enjoy her job.

"Really? A good wife should have many children, and stay home to take care of them," she looked like she was going to continue, but a sharp "Astoria!" from Draco ended her thinly veiled insults. With a grateful look to her childhood nemesis, the two families converged and began their shopping expedition. It was decided that wands should be bought last, and things like books would be bought first. A great feeling of pride swelled in Hermione's chest as Judicaël received his wand, signified by a gentle breeze blowing through Ollivander's. Mireille tugged on her mother's robes.

"Mummy, can I get one now? Please?" Mireille pleaded with her big blue eyes. Hermione remained firm.

"Not now sweetie. Not until you've gotten your Hogwarts letter," reminded Hermione. The little girl pouted, which was ignored by her mother. After giving his own son a few words of praise, Draco turned to Rabastan with a considering expression.

"Would you like to join us for dinner?" Hermione hoped her husband wasn't in a socializing mood. She really didn't want to spend any more time with Astoria, and being near Scorpius made Mireille feel like she was about to be given away, due to the pushy witch's attempts to create a marriage contract. Fortunately for Hermione, Rabastan politely shook his head and declined.

"We're eating at Bijoux. It's where Hermione and I had our first date, and we've made it a point to go there on special occasions with our family," explained Rabastan to the younger pureblood. Draco nodded in response, and began to shuffle his family out of the shop.

"We shall see you in September then, at the station. Take care," with that, the snooty family left for the nearest Apparition point to head for dinner. Hermione smiled gratefully. She took her husband's hand in hers and gazed down at her children. The three glanced up excitedly. It was rare for them to go to Bijoux, which was only a treat for them not because of the excellent food, but because it was the site of Rabastan's and Hermione's first date.

"What was your date like, mummy?" Mireille asked. Hermione smiled wider at her daughter, and began to tell her daughter, once more, how Rabastan asked her out to dinner. "Well, I was doing some shopping in Diagon Alley, I believe I was picking up some items from the Apothecary, when he came right up to me from nowhere, and asked me out."

"Then what happened?" Aurélien prodded. Hermione opened her mouth to continue, when her memory suddenly seemed to hit a wall. She gaped for a few moments, blinking as if it would somehow recall the memory of her first date with her husband.

"This is embarrassing. I can't seem to remember," she unconsciously squinted her eyes while she searched her mind for the answers. Then it came to her. "Oh, now I remember. I just said yes, and he took me to Bijoux. I was quite upset, because I wasn't dressed for it. I had some scallops, and your father had lamb, and then he took me home," she finished with a note of finality.

"You almost forgot your first date? You can't do that, mum, that's like forgetting your wedding day!" insisted Judicaël. Hermione gave a sheepish laugh and tugged on her bushy hair. Rabastan watched the exchange silently, giving a shadow of a smile while his eyes focused intently on Hermione.

"Come now, let's go get something to eat. Then you can practice some spells at home, Judicaël," the retired Death Eater urged his family along and wrapped an arm around his wife's waist. Everything was perfect.

OooooO

The following week saw the Lestrange family at Lestrange Court, the ancestral home of the formerly pureblooded family. Unfortunately for muggleborn Hermione, it inhabited someone who was decidedly not pro muggleborn. Rodolphus Lestrange was a depressed widower, desperately missing his much loved, probably only by him, and psychotic wife, Bellatrix. With her death, all his passion for muggle hunting and hating died, and while Rodolphus would never even respect Hermione, he didn't have it in him to even verbally attack her, instead just giving her a silent hateful regard. But, perhaps that was just out of respect for his brother. Either way, Rodolphus didn't let on as to how he felt about his sister-in-law, and he seemed to like his niece and nephews just fine, and seemed quite pleased that Hermione was about to bear a fourth child.

Upon seeing her only blood uncle, Mireille promptly forgot any and all pureblood etiquette taught to her by Rabastan and dashed forth, curly hair bouncing and short arms flung wide to bestow Rodolphus with one of her easily gained hugs. Her small, still slightly chubby body collided with her uncle's knees, and her surprisingly tight grip almost knocked him off balance.

"Comment vous êtes, petite lumière?" Rodolphus patted Mireille on the head. She granted him a pretty little scowl and her arms came up to fold across her chest the moment he spoke in French. "Uncle Rodolphus, you know I can't speak French! Don't do that!" She tugged on his robes to add emphasis to her words. The man gave his niece a weak smirk.

"Of course, Mireille. In my old age, it's hard to remember which language I really learned first," Mireille smiled at him in forgiveness and hugged him tightly again. Aurélien and Judicaël approached Rodolphus more sedately than their sister, but their faces still gave away their excitement at seeing their uncle. Rabastan knew of Hermione's discomfort around his older brother, and so he made it a point only to visit him alone. However, this decision clashed with Rodolphus's desire to see his niece and nephew much more than just occasionally. So today, Hermione took the family to see their uncle, citing the upcoming school year as an excuse.

"I suppose you have your wand now, Judicaël. Let's see it," The boy's excited face quickly became ecstatic when his uncle acknowledged him. He pulled out his wand and recited its makeup perfectly. "Hawthorn, nine and half inches, flexible, with a phoenix feather," Judicaël looked up at Rodolphus expectantly while he perused the wand.

"That's a good, strong wand. I expect you'll do well with it," he replied. The boy grinned and tucked his wand away. Rodolphus raised his head and greeted his eldest nephew, Aurélien next. As they interacted, Hermione thought it a shame he didn't have children of his own. He was quite good with them. Of course, as she thought of this, she realized who he would have had children with. It was quite the blessing that Bellatrix never had the chance to procreate. A gentle tug on Hermione's arm brought her out of her thoughts and she looked up to see her children disappearing into the dining room for dinner. Rodolphus stood waiting in the threshold, considering the couple. He nodded and said a few words to Rabastan and ignored Hermione completely. She didn't mind. Better to be ignored than have violent vitriol tossed her way. Holding her husband's arm, Hermione proceeded into the next room. She hoped there were some pickles at dinner. She had the most urgent craving for them.

After dinner, the Lestranges settled into one of the side study rooms connected to the library. The children were lounging in poufy chairs and cushions and Hermione took up a place in the center to read to her children. She decided to pick a wizarding version of a fantasy story, mature enough to satisfy her sons and filled with excitement to hold her daughter's attention. When the short story was completed, Hermione left the side room to enter the main library to choose another selection while the kids waited for their father and their uncle to return from a private talk and smoke session. Hermione chose a well worn book after some perusing and was on her way back to her children when angry voices caught her attention. Using the skills she had gained in the war, she hid behind the door, careful not to let her shadow fall through the cracks of the door and alert the room's occupants.

"...don't know what you're thinking, Rabastan," Rodolpus said heatedly. There was a clink of metal on glass, and Hermione concluded they must also be drinking while conversing. Creaking wood and an exhalation also made their way to her sharp ears.

"Why does this always come up every time I come here?" Rabastan's voice was irritated and long suffering sounding. Hermione could really believe this was a conversation he had heard many times before just by the sound of his voice. Her husband uttered a soft French curse, then spoke again, "Give me another one of those fags, this one is done."

"Doesn't she love you enough to let you smoke freely?" Rodolphus was sarcastic this time. Rabastan said something back in French, and by the tone of his voice, it wasn't polite. Rodolphus chuckled softly in response, nothing at all like the enthusiastic laughter of his Death Eater days. There was a snap of fingers, and one of the brothers sighed. Hermione assumed that despite their cutting banter, the older brother had acquiesced to the younger's request and allowed him the cigarette.

"I love her enough to stop smoking when I know she doesn't like it. If I really need to light, I go outside. And if I need to drink and smoke, I come here. We only keep weak stuff around, for the holidays. The good stuff is all here," Rabastan explained after some time. They fell into silence. For awhile, all Hermione could hear was the sounds of the brother's smoking and drinking alcohol. The quiet sloshing of liquid made Hermione thirsty and she desperately desired some water, especially after reading aloud. But she disciplined herself, in case anything more was said. And more was to come.

"You're a fool," Rodolphus said at last, "Don't roll your eyes at me either. If mére were alive, she would swat you for your horrendous manners. That Mudblood is turning you into a barbarian." Even from the hall, Hermione felt the energy change.

"Don't talk about Hermione like that. She isn't like the rest of those filth. She's worthy of pureblood. It is a travesty to have one such as her born to mere Muggles. Even maman would agree. And Hermione is most definitely not turning me into a barbarian. If anything, the opposite is true." Hermione felt herself warm with Rabastan's defense of her, though she was more than slightly miffed about his comments regarding other muggleborns, and the ones about her parents. She had thought he had liked them. Rabastan was a Slytherin. No doubt he was an excellent actor.

"Regardless, her supposed worthiness doesn't change the fact you've been lying to her since before you married," the ominous words brought back the dreading feeling she often felt in Rabastan's presence. Was that it? Could Hermione sense that her husband was keeping something from her? Oh God, was he still a Death Eater. Hermione didn't think so, he was always with her. The only time he wasn't was when he visited his older brother. She supposed he could be using that as an excuse.

"What else could I do? The woman I love and desire above all others was going to eventually fall in love with someone. I had to make sure it was me. So I did. And she doesn't have a clue what I did, so it's fine," Rabastan retorted. A bottle thudded sharply as it was replaced on a stand. Hermione bit her lip worriedly. What did Rabastan do?

"Pathetic," Rodolphus hissed, and his voice suddenly reminded Hermione of when he was a Death Eater, full of disdain and hatred. "You could have made her fall in love with you the way most wizards do, not by the route you took." A low growl came from Rabastan as his temper was incited. "What else could I do? She wouldn't even look twice at me before. Just because you were able to have a normal, loving relationship with Bellatrix..." Rabastan's voice descended into grumbles.

"Then you should have worked harder to convince her of your regard, shouldn't you have?" Rodolphus was unsympathetic. "Then you wouldn't have been reduced to such measures." Hermione gripped the book tightly, feeling tears welling in her eyes. Her marriage to Rabastan was a fake? Had he been slipping her love potions? If it was Amortentia, then she was irrevocably in love with him for forever. And with children involved, there was no way the Ministry would dissolve the marriage, even if she cried he was abusing her. Shaking her head, Hermione left, unable to continue listening to the conversation.

OooooO

The following weekend, Hermione began rifling through Rabastan's things. She knew better than to ask him outright about their relationship. If something was going on, then he would know that she knew something suspicious was going on, and would work to make her forget. And she didn't want to hear him lie baldly to her face. That would just hurt her so much, especially since she had never been anything less than truthful with him.

A tear slid down her face while she searched his desk. Hermione wiped it away angrily, conflicting emotions bubbling in her chest. She needed to focus. She was sure he kept any notes about potions in his desk. If he was using love potions, the recipes would be here. Slamming a drawer shut, Hermione sighed in frustration when it revealed nothing, standing abruptly. The woman promptly hissed in pain as the edge of a cabinet door scrapped her calf. Turning around, Hermione kicked the door roughly to vent some of her anger. The door slammed shut and opened again, the force was so great. Curious about the cabinet, Hermione peered inside, gasping in shock when she saw the Pensieve. She grasped the heavy artifact carefully and pulled it out and placed it on the desk for her inspection. This could be what she was looking for. If there was a betrayal, here Hermione would find it, in her husband's memories. The pregnant woman settled into the comfy office chair and leaned over the Pensieve. Hesitantly, she put her face into the cool liquid, and let herself be swept away by memories.

_She had just finished her shopping in Diagon Alley when he approached her. It was a great shock to her to see his face not twisted by pureblood mania. Rabastan offered a charming smile. Hermione frowned and turned her nose up disdainfully. Despite her nonverbal rejection, he persisted and began to speak with her. _

_ "Miss Granger, isn't it?" he said pleasantly. Hermione sniffed. As if he didn't know who she was, especially after they had fought on opposites during the war. _

_ "I'm sure you know who I am, Mr. Lestrange," she replied curtly. The former Death Eater did not falter. "I was perhaps wondering if you would like to accompany me to Bijoux for dinner tonight." Hermione was gob smacked. He dared to ask her out on a date? As if she wanted to go out with a pureblooded bigot. Hermione promptly turned him down. _

_ "No thank you, Mr. Lestrange. Good day," And with that, she stalked off. _

_ The scenery changed, and Hermione found herself looking at the memory that occurred mere days after the first. Once more, Rabastan came up to a previously cheerful Hermione who became irritated at the sight of the pureblood. She frowned at the man, not even in the mood to give him a chance. _

_ "Miss Granger, would tonight be ideal for you to accompany me to dinner. We had such a wonderful time on our first date," confused by his words, and wondering if he was delusional, Hermione took a step back. It was all the opportunity he needed to draw his wand on her. A few flicks and things became fuzzy in her mind as the images struggled to rearrange themselves properly. A false memory of laughter and pleasant conversation that had left Hermione surprised yet wanting more prompted her to say yes to Rabastan's request. What she thought was their second date was really their first. _

Similar memories made themselves known to Hermione, including the ones where she discovered what exactly happened, and Rabastan Obliviated her to maintain their relationship. Throughout their time together, anything Rabastan had said or done that would have made Hermione seriously consider breaking it off with him was erased from her mind, leaving only the lovely memories between them and a falsely blooming love. There was nothing to detract from Rabastan's charm, because he had made sure Hermione remembered nothing that could. He cleverly left the memories of fights and such, because a lack of those would immediately make Hermione suspicious, but anything serious was completely gone, making it appear they were the perfect couple. Tears streamed down Hermione's face. Everything really was a lie. It was just falsely constructed memories lying parallel to real ones to make her believe in their love, much more powerful and careful than a mere love potion. Hermione combed her fingers through her hair. She had to leave. She had to take the children some place safe and get away from Rabastan.

"Again, Hermione?" she whirled to see her husband leaning casually in the doorway. Hermione drew her wand instantly, pointing it at Rabastan. He looked surprised. She had never done that before. On the other hand, she had never been pregnant when she uncovered his deception. Sparks flew angrily from Hermione's wand, yet her hand trembled. Rabastan walked towards her warily.

"Now Hermione, let's not do anything dangerous. You don't want to hurt the baby," Rabastan coaxed her. Hermione shook her head. She couldn't listen to him. He would only Obliviate her again.

"You stay away from me, you liar. Don't come any closer," no matter how much she willed it, she couldn't bring herself to do much more than shower hot sparks on him. She couldn't hurt her husband, whom she had given four children, and half her life. For every step Rabastan took, Hermione stepped back, unknowingly moving away the only true obstacle there was between her and the retired Death Eater: the heavy wooden desk. When he deemed her to be a safe distance from it, Rabastan lunged. The two adults whirled and grappled with each other. Despite his larger size and greater strength, he had to be mindful of Hermione's heavily pregnant belly. His care resulted in bloody scratches on his arms as he wrestled to take her wand from her grip. At one point, her perfectly white teeth sank into the faded Dark Mark on his forearm, something that in the heat of passion she had traced boldly with her tongue and lips. Eventually, they ended up on the floor, Hermione pinned against his chest, legs trapped under his folded ones. Tears fells uncaringly from her eyes while her face become splotchy.

"Let go of me, you bastard!" Hermione shouted, still trying to beat against him, putting up the last vestiges of a desperate fight. Rabastan wrapped his strong arms around her, trapping her against him. She had nowhere else to go.

"You lied to me. You stole my memories," Hermione said weakly. Rabastan took her weak voice as the sign that the fight had left her. He slowly relaxed his grip on his wife. "I did what I had to. I needed you to love me like I knew I could love you." He nuzzled her hair and breathed her in. Hermione shook her head, in protest to his words or actions, he didn't know.

"I hate you." Tears fell from Hermione's eyes. She knew that wasn't true. It took more than a sudden revelation to destroy decades of a loving, albeit false, marriage. Rabastan sighed against her. She felt tired and empty, and most of all, utterly betrayed. She had been so sure that her life was perfect. Hermione should have known better. She wasn't lucky enough to get the perfect life everyone thought she had. She may have had perfect children, but her husband? Her husband was nothing more than a deceiver. A deceiver that she was deeply in love with.

"I suppose that means I need to Obliviate you again," Rabastan said regretfully. A panic came over Hermione. She couldn't let him do that again. He was going to take pieces of her away. He was going to take the truth away from her.

"No, Rabastan, please, don't. Don't do that," she looked up into his face, trying to wordlessly convince him to leave her memories. "I promise, I'll stay, I won't say anything, Rabastan, please don't do this." His expression remained stony and resigned.

"If I listened to everyone who begged, I wouldn't have been very good at torture, would I have? I'm sorry Hermione. _Obliviate._"

OooooO

A soft golden light disrupted her sleep. Hermione furrowed her brows and turned into the warm body next to her, snuggling in close and smiling when she felt a muscular arm wrap around her. A nose nuzzled her hair before lips placed soft butterfly kisses behind her ear. Fingers trailed down her back in a loving caress.

"Good morning, wife," her husband's rough voice said. Hermione grinned and pulled him closer. "Not yet Rabastan," she murmured back. He chuckled as he moved his hand to entangle his fingers in her hair. He leaned back to gaze at her face, sleepy but glowing with motherhood. Rabastan kissed her on the forehead. He usually wasn't an affectionate man, but it was hard to contain himself around his beautiful wife. Hermione's eyes fluttered open.

"I love you, Rabastan," she said. He didn't reply, but she knew from the squeeze his hand gave hers that he loved her back. She smiled and cuddled up to her delightful husband. Despite the warmth and happiness that pervaded her being, something felt off. She couldn't help a sinking feeling of dread in her stomach. She had a loving husband, four children, and was heavily pregnant. She had everything she had ever wanted. Something was wrong.

~finis~

Comment vous êtes, petite lumière - how are you, little light?

mére - mother

maman - mama


End file.
